


Auld Lang Syne and Stuff

by firienfeld



Category: The Nice Guys (2016)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Post-Canon, just two guys kissing and their daughter being embarrassed, teeth rotting domestic bliss, this is like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28618443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firienfeld/pseuds/firienfeld
Summary: Holland yelped excitedly and held his arm out in front of Holly's face, making her jump."Look look look!!! One minute to go!" he exclaimed, childlike in his excitement. While his eyes were glued to the glass watch face, Jackson and Holly shared in an exasperated, but loving, grin. He ruffled her hair gently. The time might come when Jackson Healy would stop being completely amazed by how lucky he was to find these two, but it definitely wasn't tonight.---just a little bit of new year's fluff for my favourite family
Relationships: Jackson Healy/Holland March
Kudos: 26





	Auld Lang Syne and Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to get this out on New Year's Day, but, uh...
> 
> it's only been a few days since I watched this movie, but now this 70s detective family lives rent-free in my head... can't believe I put it off for four years. how did i live without them

Just before midnight the three of them had walked out, only a couple of minutes, to the crest of the hill that the rebuilt house sat on. The night air was mild and, even out in the dark, alive with a buzz of celebration. This had become a tradition over the past three years, ever since they'd spent that first New Year's together in the old rented place. This one felt special, though, being the start of a new decade and all.

The running commentary from a lagging March was oddly pleasant, filling the night air with complaints about _all this mud on my new fuckin' shoes, jesus christ_. He came to a stop next to Holly and Jackson, nursing a half-full champagne glass in one hand and flicking his cigarette butt with the other.

The city was, admittedly, beautiful at night. It was easy to forget, especially in a line of work that made you painfully aware of all the assholes in the world. Peaceful nights like this one had become so much more common in Jackson Healy's life over the past few years.

Shoe-based concerns apparently forgotten, Holland yelped excitedly and held his arm out in front of Holly's face, making her jump.

" _Look look look_!!! One minute to go!" he exclaimed, childlike in his excitement. While his eyes were glued to the glass watch face, Jackson and Holly shared in an exasperated, but loving, grin. He ruffled her hair gently. The time might come when Jackson Healy would stop being completely amazed by how lucky he was to find these two, but it definitely wasn't tonight.

"Dad, are you sure your watch is right? I'm pretty sure you haven't changed the batteries in, like, ten years," Holly asked.

"Of course it's right. I'm a fuckin' detective, honey. I'm prepared for _anything._ "

Holland took a large swig from his champagne glass, eyes still on the watch hands. Jackson and Holly exchanged a significantly more exasperated, but just as loving grin. Then, as if to prove his point, a solid forty-five seconds before Holland's watch struck midnight fireworks began to erupt over the LA skyline. As the faint cheers of their neighbours broke out, he just made a face and flipped the bird in the vague direction of the sound, muttering to himself.

Holly laughed and flung her arms around the two men, pulling them both into a tight hug. Holland jumped and held his glass up, trying to keep it stable, before he hugged her back.

"Happy New Year, Dad!" she beamed, "Happy New Year, Mr Healy!"

"You too, darling," Jackson smiled.

"Yeah, happy New Year, both of you," March said. He was obviously still bitter about his watch, but his voice still betrayed a soft happiness.

Content with the exchange, Holly turned back around to watch the fireworks. Jackson reached his hand around Holland's shoulders, Holly nestled between them. As expected, Holland immediately moved to wrap his arm around the older man's waist and rested his head on his shoulder. Jackson turned to nuzzle his nose into blond hair.

"I love you," he murmured gently, happily. March giggled in response. Okay, maybe the two of them had drank a bit much. They'd already poured the last of their two bottles of cheap champagne before leaving the house, and there was definitely something stronger waiting for them when they got back home. Over the years, Healy hadn't ever gotten back into the habit of drinking too much, and March had steadily fallen out of it. A night like New Year's, though; or the closing of a particularly shitty case; a birthday; a date night; well, they both cut loose a bit.

_Fuck it, it's a special occasion._

Jackson's chain of thought was cut short when Holly spoke up again.

"Can I have some champagne?" she asked, breezily, as if it was nothing. Holland jumped.

"Hey, no. No way. No. Not at all."

"Dad! It's New Year's, which means I'm turning sixteen this year, which means that I'm basically an adult and stuff. Why not?"

"That's not how it works at all, sweetie. Maybe when you're twenty-one."

" _Dad!_ "

Jackson, somewhat shakily, held his glass out to her.

"You can have a few sips, sweetheart."

Holly took the glass, beaming, as Holland gaped in abject horror.

" _HEY!_ No she _cannot_! She's sixteen, Healy! You may not have fucking standards, but I do, and I'm not gonna stand for thi-"

"And when did you have your first drink, March?" Jackson asked, fixing the other man with the coolest gaze that he could manage in his somewhat dizzy state. Holland frowned warily, suddenly looking anywhere other than Healy's eyes.

"I mean, I don't remember... exactly... but, like, uh, not..."

Healy patted Holly on the shoulder, satisfied.

"Drink up, darling."

"Thanks, Mr. Healy," she beamed, before immediately trying to hide her grimace as she took a sip.

Jackson returned the smile, before looking back to Holland with a smug grin. The younger man seemed to be doing his best impression of a disgruntled weasel of some sort. Frankly, Healy found it ridiculously cute, and winked. He watched, amused, as March's mouth twitched in response, before he remembered he was supposed to be annoyed, and fixed it back into a scowl.

_Ah, he was going to enjoy them being alone later._

They stood, for a few minutes longer, watching as the time between the fireworks slowly increased. Holly finished the dregs of Jackson's champagne, wincing with each drink. Holland, predictably, seemed to forget ever having been angry in the first place, burying his face back into the crook of his partner's neck and circling arms around his waist.

"I love you too, by the way," he murmured, softly. His breath was warm, and his facial hair tickled against Jackson's neck. "Forgot to say earlier."

He looked up, meeting Jackson's eyes, and smiled. Holly made an overexaggerated sound of disgust, and snickered something about getting a room. _God, she was such a great daughter._

The past few years with the two Marches had left Jackson feeling happier, quite possibly, than he ever had in his life. He almost, _almost,_ felt guilty; guys like him weren't supposed to get this lucky. A divorced bruiser who broke limbs for a living felt like the logical conclusion to his life, the grave that he'd dug himself. Never, not in a million fucking years, had he thought that he'd have a _kid_ , especially one as precocious and intelligent as Holly. And yet, there she was, happily gazing off at the colors on the horizon. He had a comfortable bed to go back to, and the warm presence of the most infuriating, ridiculous and _incredible_ person he could imagine against his side. It was the start of a new decade- a new chapter- and fuck, Jackson couldn't dream of a better way of starting it. He reached up to stroke at his partner's slightly flushed cheek.

"I know," he said, and he meant it.

* * *

After Holly, despite much protesting, -and a firm reminder from Jackson that it was a school night- was sent to bed, the house was quiet and still. Although the occasional firework still sounded outside, from inside the world seemed to be winding down. Jackson busied himself with the record player as Holland went to pour them both another few fingers of scotch. Bruce Springsteen seemed about right, one of the albums that he knew Holland really liked, and he left it softly spinning in the background as he made his way to where Holland now sat on the couch. He took a glass, tapping it against his partner's with a _clink._

"Here's to a new decade of us."

March hummed in agreement.

"First of many."

Holland lit a cigarette and put his feet up on the table. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, pressed together contently, both sipping their drinks while Holland stroked his fingers softly over Jackson's knee.

"Hey," March finally spoke up, with a hint of a smile in his voice. "You know, I never got my New Year's kiss."

Healy turned his head, eyebrow raised in amusement.

"If I remember the situation correctly, that's because you were blabbering at me about Holly's drinking habits. Or was it your broken fuckin' watch?"

Holland scowled, clearly annoyed that his tease hadn't had the immediate intended effect.

"Listen, man, all I asked for is a simple goddamn kiss," Holland complained, eyes following as Jackson moved to place his glass on the table. He continued talking even as Jackson took his glass out of one hand and put it down too, before plucking the near-finished cigarette out of the other and stubbing it out in the ashtray. The older man sat back on the couch, making level eye contact as he continued to run his mouth. "I mean, shit, if that's too much to ask, then I guess I may as well just fucki-"

With a sudden grip in his hair and a jolt forwards, March finally shut up. Their lips met, forceful but gentle, and he opened his mouth immediately with a soft sigh. His arms moved up to wrap around Jackson's neck, sliding fingertips under his shirt at the back. The hand in March's hair loosened its grip slightly but kept its pressure there, but Healy let his other hand fall to rest on his partner's hip. It was so easy to get lost in moments like this, especially in the dark, with the record on and the world outside so far away.

"There you go," Jackson chuckled, finally pulling away, "That good enough for you?"

March wore an expression that managed to be at once smug, turned on, and completely smitten. A slight pride bloomed through Jackson's chest.

"For now, sure. But you'd best not be copping out on me."

"Sorry," Jackson teased, "I wasn't aware of any New Year's traditions beyond the kiss. Are you saying there's more?"

Holland rolled his eyes, "Maybe if you stop fucking around."

Pulling them both up straight, Jackson slapped the other man on the thigh, putting on his authoritative voice.

"Well then finish your drink and get your ass to bed. I'll be there in a minute."

As expected, March did exactly as told. He paused to pose at the hallway entrance in a way that was probably supposed to be seductive, but looked so utterly goofy that Jackson had to force a cough to hide his laugh. _God, he's cute._

With a coy smile, he disappeared into the bedroom.

Healy took his time putting the record away and washing up the tumblers, enjoying the thought of Holland getting antsy in the other room. He hummed softly to himself as he dried the glasses and placed them back in the cupboard, checked that the front door was locked, but paused before turning of the lights in the hallway to the bedroom. _Their bedroom._

It was a sense of real, genuine contentment that settled in his chest, he decided. They had been living comfortably together for long enough that sometimes the thought of just how _amazing_ this all was fell to the back of his mind. Now, Jackson gazed around the house, smiling to himself.

If the past three years were anything to go by, hell, the 80s might just be the best decade of his goddamn life.


End file.
